


The Feel of My Skin

by Alicethrutheburrows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brief Dean with Aaron, Brief Dean with other people, Cas is an esthetician, Complete, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Dean discovers himself, Dean is a disaster, Dean likes being smooth, Don't seduce your service providers, Electrician Dean, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Angst, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Panty Kink, Really he is a mess, Rimming, Satin Seduction Winchester Style, Sex in a waxing salon, Talks about prep, This is overly relatable, This may not be for everyone, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, bjs, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicethrutheburrows/pseuds/Alicethrutheburrows
Summary: Dean's been out of the closet for two years now. He's a happy and open bisexual. Not wanting to assume when he gets asked out for his date with a man, Dean decides to go get a wax. The experience is a life-changing one from the man doing the wax to the end result. An unlikely friendship is hatched between the two when Dean calls the only man he knows who he can ask an odd favor. After months of texts, waxes, and grabbings beers a couple of nights a week, their friendship begins to change. Will Dean fall for the beautiful esthetician named Cas the same way he does his smooth skin?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 207
Collections: Takeout Tacos





	The Feel of My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome back down my rabbit hole. This story was created for representation week. Now, what does this story have to with representation? Let me explain. Representation to me is about doing the things that make you feel like you. It's about discovering who you are. So whether it is dying your hair, rocking rainbows, or like Dean getting waxed exploring the things that make you feel good about who you are is a big part of representing yourself. Never stop discovering things that make you happy, and make you feel seen, heard, and understood. Love you for you. 
> 
> Much love for you, Alice.
> 
> Also, this fic as been alpha read and beta'd by the lovely: Emblue-sparks. Please go love on her stories.

Dean did his research.

He scoured Google reviews and Yelp, burning his eyes late until the late reading page after page of reviews. Castiel Novak—Horn and Halos top-rated esthetician for first-timers—has the most positive reviews for any place in the city of Lawrence. Many of the comments state the man is as kind as he is clinical making the entire waxing process effortless. So, feeling confident in this guy’s abilities from the reviews Dean booked his appointment hoping the guy really was good at handling first-timers as everyone claims. 

Because Dean’s sitting on the couch in the lobby about to lose his shit. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably, he’s ninety-five percent sure he’s sweating through his deodorant, and he’s already regretting this decision. The receptionist came over and collected his little information sheet and waiver, not that Dean had any allergies well besides being allergic to cats but he didn’t really see that applying here and had no previous health conditions. But waiting in the lobby made him feel like he developed an arrhythmia, his heart skipping every other fucking beat. 

Looking at the door, the thought to just book it out of here and never look back crosses his mind. Just as he’s beginning to really consider it, a door in the hallway swings open and Dean’s name is being called. Now or never, Winchester. Taking a deep, calming breath and rubbing his sweaty ass palms on his jeans, Dean smiles and follows the nice lady to an open door in the hallway. She gestures for Dean to enter so, he complies nodding thanks and steps into his doom. 

Okay, he knows he’s being dramatic but damn he’s about to be waxed for the first time and what part of that isn’t scary? The smaller room is uniquely decorated—vibrant rainbow beads hang on one wall, a huge apocalyptic octopus fabric tapestry with upon further inspection had mini vaginas as suckers, a thumping bass filled the space, and the most gorgeous man Dean had the pleasure of seeing in scrubs was leaned against a table probably reading over Dean’s chart. For a minute Deans wonders if he stepped into a portal of some sort and exited reality and entered some hippie endverse type universe. 

“Hello,” The man in tight dark blue scrubs says, checking the chart once more and holy shit they match his beautiful blue eyes, “Dean.”

Dean knows he’s gawking but damn this man is definitely the halo in their business name. Dean shakes the dirty thoughts trying to crawl into his head away he is not here to hit on this man, he’s doing this because after finally coming out of the closet two years ago he’s going on his first date with another man. 

“Says this is your first time?” and shit, this guy’s voice is finally registering in Dean’s head and it sounds like he swallowed a bunch of gravel and chased it with whiskey. 

Getting with the program, so the poor schmuck doesn’t think Dean is crazy, “Yes, that obvious?” he tries for nonchalant but his nerves bleed through his words.  
The guy unabashedly sizes Dean up before turning towards the mini-fridge and pulling out a bottle of Jack. Well, this has taken an unexpected turn. 

“Sorry, I should have asked but,” the man starts speaking again while pouring two glasses with about two fingers of whiskey each, “You look like you need a drink.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs with a smidgen of breathlessness, he’s been seen through. “Yeah, I really do.” He finishes, accepting the glass. 

“I’m Castiel,” Castiel says, smiling around the lip of the glass, “But most everyone calls me Cas, feel free to do so.” He slams the amber liquid in one go, setting his glass on top of the fridge. Dean follows suit enjoying the familiar burn that comes from a cold shot of Mr. Daniels. Handing over his glass, Dean does feel a bit better. Maybe, this guy really is a guru like the all reviews stated. 

Cas eyes Dean bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet but doesn’t comment instead, “Do you have any questions for me before we get started?” Cas says, smiling at the end like they are talking about steaks on the barbeque instead of Dean getting hair yanked from his ass. 

The fact this is really happening sinks in and all Dean can do is shake his head no. He bends down to unlace his sneakers opting for tennis shoes instead of his normal boot wear today. 

Cas makes light conversation while Dean is toeing his shoes off, “So, Dean what do you do for work?”

The question has Dean chuckling, as far as small talk goes it could be worse, “I’m an electrician. Actually, I just finished my apprenticeship a year ago and now do subcontracting work,” Dean’s humble about his work, he opted to go more for a technical career. He’s great with his hands and he makes good money doing what he does luckily without all with student loan debt that comes from attending a four-year university. 

Popping the button on his jeans, Dean catches a sparkle in Cas’s eyes, “I admire your choice of profession. Being a more vocational work myself, I admire those who work with their hands,”

And Dean yeah with those words coming from a real-life magazine model, he’s not above blushing underneath the praise. His train of thought derails and there’s no stopping his runaway mouth, “How does a guy end up waxing…you know…” Dean gestures vaguely to his privates, “For a living?”

The dude just shrugs, Dean surmises Cas has been asked this question a hundred times but he’s genuinely curious about the answer, “I had no idea what I wanted to do when I graduated. My co-owner is also my childhood best friend. When she decided she wanted to do this, I followed along. Turns out I surprisingly don’t mind staring at genitals all day,” Cas says, somewhat boldly and clinically like a doctor delivering someone’s prognosis, “I like my job,” and Cas’s small laugh is somewhat contagious and Dean smiles at it, “I make decent money, set my own my hours mostly, and my clients are always rather nice.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dean says, wiggle dancing out of his jeans with a half-chuckle, half-smirk. Here’s the part Dean’s been dreading, taking off his boxers. Buying himself a couple of extra seconds, he decides to strip out of his flannel and place it on his growing stack of clothes. Dean’s not a shy man, actually, he takes pride in being utterly adorable but for some reason Cas has him feeling like a high school girl with her first crush. Or maybe he’s just letting first time waxing nerves get the better of him, yeah he’s definitely blaming his suddenly developed shyness on his nerves. 

Fiddling with the hem of his black t-shirt, he’s trying to decide if he should take it off too or…

“Do you want to see mine?” Cas asks, turning Dean into a statue as if Medusa looked him straight in the eyes. 

“What?” Dean does not mouse squeak.

Cas throws him a shrug, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Most people feel better after you show them everyone’s um, privates are different.”

Dean feels the stone curse reversing, “Does that really work?”

And goodness, that laugh is something, “Yeah, most feel vulnerable being the only naked one in the room. Offering tends to help ease their worries and many get a chuckle after I drop my pants, luckily my ego is ironclad.” Cas says with a fucking horrible ass wink. 

Between the might be a seizure wink and the de-pants offer, Dean dissolves into giggles. _What the hell_ , is all he can think as his giggles become full-blown belly laughs. Cas just smiles as Dean loses it, this day officially the weirdest day of his life. 

“No, no I’m good,” Dean says in dismal, around a couple inhales and lingering laughs waving his hands. Feeling lighter, Dean hooks his thumbs in his boxers and pulls them down. Fuck why had that been so scary? Just to deflect any waning awkwardness Dean says, “I’m a grower, not a show-er,” as he hops onto the waxing table in the middle of the room. 

“On the contrary Dean, you are quite the ‘show-er’” Cas comments, air-quoting Dean’s slang as he puts on his black gloves with a snap. Dean rolls his eyes, not falling for the cheesy compliment though he tucks it away in the corner of his mind to revisit later. 

“Yeah, yeah you big flirt. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.” Dean responds, laying back on the table wiggling himself into a comfortable position. 

He hears Cas huff then the sound of wheels rolling on the vinyl wood flooring. Dean swallows, he’s here, he’s already naked, no turning back now. 

Cas peppers some type of powder on him and Dean flinches on instinct when Cas’s deft fingers move to rub it. Remembering to relax, Dean wills himself to calm down and Cas’ fingers actually feel really nice. Dean peeks up at Cas as he works, “I’m going to talk you through this whole process, all I want you to do is relax. If you have any questions just ask,” Cas finishes reaching beside himself to pick up a wooden popsicle and dip into the wax warmer. 

Dean watches in fascination as Cas twirls the thick navy goop around the popsicle stick. “This is going to feel a little warm,” And fuck does it. Not hot, but Cas is right the wax he is spreading on is warm. “So, we are going to chisel away into the more sensitive areas,” he says, patting the wax into Dean’s skin. “Getting this done for any special occasion?” 

No pointing of keeping secrets from the guy handling his flaccid dick and Dean doubts Cas would judge him anyways, “I’m going on a date with this guy I met when I was doing some rewiring down at the Roadhouse. His name is Aaron. He stumbled his way through asking me and I stumbled right into a wooden beam after saying yes.” Dean chuckles, remembering how after walking straight into the damn post it broke the awkward tension between them. 

Cas pats the little spot he put wax on and comments, “Sounds like a great guy. Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I am, and he seems great. Guess I’ll find out over dinner. And if things go well like I’m hoping, and we end up back at my place for the night and I didn’t want to assume…”

“AYYYYYEEEEEEE!” Dean arches his back off the table as Cas yanks the wax strip. Fuck whoever said it’s just like ripping a band-aid off, Dean thinks and adds to the thought for good measure, that person can kindly fuck off. 

“Dude, weren’t you supposed to count to three?” Dean breathes out with a rasp. Cas runs a soothing hand down his thigh gently repositioning it into place.

“You would have tensed, and tensing makes it hurt more,” Cas explains, and okay he’s probably right but Jesus on a cracker Dean felt every fiber of his being stand on end from the tips of his big toes to the tips of the hair on his forehead. 

“Touché,” Dean says, the tingling feeling subsiding. 

Picking up another popsicle stick, Cas repeats the process—twirl, spread, pat. “The first time is always the worst. Right now, we are waxing the hairs you’ve had since puberty. Shaving cuts the hair but doesn’t pull the root out which is why people say the hair grows back twice as thick when you shave.” For the first time since Dean walked in, Cas feels like an esthetician, and Dean’s a little in awe. 

He arches a bit when Cas yanks out the second bit of hair, but it doesn’t hurt as bad. Cas seems to be in his groove explaining things as he works, “Hair grows in cycles, once we remove all the original hair this time about a third of it will grow back by the next time you need another wax,”

“You think I’ll come back. Because this sucks,” Dean whines.

“We’ll it will suck two-thirds less the next time,” Cas smiles. Dean reminds himself again he is not here to hit on the hot wax man, nope but he is nice to look at the half of his functioning brain cell argues. Can’t argue with logic when a stubbled Greek god type jawline and bright heavenly sky eyes are just there for the viewing. 

Twirl, spread, pat, repeat. Cas rubs in some kind of oil in between strips of wax and Dean’s actually starting to feel comfortable with all of Cas’s waxing and hair mumbo jumbo talk to keep him distracted from the stinging. Dean’s listens and tries to remember to breathe, tries to remember when this all over he’ll be really thankful for a nice clean downstairs hopefully for Aaron to enjoy. 

“Okay now, this one is going to be the one that hurts the worst, after this I’ll have you flip over and do the easy side,” 

“Waxing my asshole hurts less?”

“Surprisingly yes, now I’m going to need you to breathe. In and out. There you go, just keep breathing,” 

Deep breaths in and out. On the third exhale, Dean feels his literal soul leave his body; he’s somewhere between living and dying is the only way he can explain it. Tears are pricking his eyes and Dean’s developed a new appreciation for models, strippers, and whoever the fuck manages to do this regularly.

As Dean finds his way back to his body, he realizes he has venus-fly trapped Cas between his shaking legs. Cas runs another soothing hand up and down trying to get Dean to release him. Dean peels his legs apart like he’s peeling a damn banana—slow and not sure which way is up. 

“Another drink?” Cas offers, moving back and pulling off his oiled gloves. 

“Yes, fucking yes,” Dean says, still trying to catch his breath. Another shot of whiskey is exactly what he needs to chase away the fleeting stinging. Dean accepts the glass graciously, raising it in a slight _cheers_ before delving into the sweet burning relief of alcohol. He hands the glass back after his usual whiskey burn. A satisfying ah from the whiskey fills the space as Dean waits for Cas’s next instructions.

Snapping on a fresh pair of black gloves after setting the glasses aside once again, Cas says, “Okay now the easy part. Can you flip over and get in a naughty kitty position for me?”

Dean chokes on his tongue, that’s a hell of a way to phrase things. Damn, how much oil is he covered in? Dean thinks ignoring the chanting naughty kitty position echoing through his head; ungluing himself from the paper as if his ass is one end of a Chinese finger trap and the paper is the other.

Anticipation is making him sweat again. The vulnerability he feels is this position is almost suffocating; he reminds himself he is doing this for a reason. When anxiety arises pull out a good ole friend—deflection. Shifting his knees apart slightly to settle in a more comfortable position and trying to combat the vulnerability attacking his nerves, Dean tries for casual but ends up saying, “So you get to look at a lot of um, nice…um...pussy cats?” Oooof, if a sniper could take him out right now, Dean wouldn’t even mind dying without pants on. Maybe he’ll be lucky and be abducted by aliens or the world could just split in half and swallow him up that’d be great too. 

“I’m not understanding your question,” He hears Cas answer right beside him, “I’m gay so I’m not sure what would define as nice, but plenty of my clients are quite beautiful so I guess I do look at many what you call nice ‘cats’”

Yeah, if someone, anyone really could put Dean out of his misery right now he’d really, really fucking appreciate it. His ass in the air was not really the position Dean wanted to be in while shoving all the _I have a chance_ thoughts into boxes and tossing them over a big fat mental cliff. 

Feeling the warmth of the wax again, Dean has decided to sew his mouth shut so more stupid would be allowed to leak out. Cas didn’t lie about this hurting less which to Dean is a relief. 

Trying to keep his mouth shut lasts all of five seconds, “Sorry, that was really um, dumb of me to say. I’m—”

“Nervous.” Cas finishes for him and without looking Dean knows there is a smile on his face, “Trust me I’ve heard it all when you do this kind of work. You feel like you’ve been alive for centuries.”

“Yeah? I bet people ask all sorts of crazy questions.” Dean says, a genuine curiosity taking root. 

Cas just chuckles as he works “Yes, most of my clients feel if they can trust you with their asshole, they can trust you with just about anything,”

And if that isn’t a motto to live by. Dean laughs, Cas really is a good guy. Speaking of assholes, “Hey speaking of trusting people and assholes and things. Do you think…” Dean trails.

“I don’t think you need any anal bleaching.” Cas answers immediately, lacking any kind of tact. 

“Good, right, okay.” He stumbles over himself. 

“Okay, I think we are done,” Cas says. And thank fucking goodness, Dean sighs; his shoulders relaxing a tension he didn’t know he was holding. A decision as Dean scrambles off the table is clicked into place in his mind. No way on God’s green earth did he just submit himself to that torture not to be enjoyed.

Standing upright for the first time in over an hour, Dean tingles all over or maybe that’s just all the damn oil. Shit, he could sign up for Turkish oil wrestling right with how much he’s covered in. (And don’t judge him for knowing exactly what that is, the internet is a warp hole man; you start on one page and the next thing you know you are watching two guys covered in oil trying to pin one another.) 

He frowns at the boxers he’s fiddling within his hands, delaying putting on his jeans knowing they’re going to chafe him like a bad hiking trip in the middle of summer. 

A cleared throat captures Dean’s attention away from his problem; looking up, Dean swears he hears the angel singing and the heavens shining a light down on the pair of black gym shorts in Cas’s outstretched hand. If it wasn’t so taboo—the whole client/service provider thing—and if he honestly wasn’t afraid to slip over himself, Dean would kiss the man. 

Carefully half-stepping forward, Dean takes the offered ball-saving garment with a thanks. Cas smiles and says, “No problem,” while turning around to clean up and letting Dean dress in peace. The whole sudden shyness makes Dean chuckle and shakes his head, dude just saw every inch of him up close and feels the need to turn his back so Dean can get dressed. 

Opting to not pull on his flannel, he folds his jeans and underwear on top of his folded flannel before putting on his socks and tennis shoes.

Cas turns back around once Dean is fully dressed and hands him a business card, “Here’s my card if you have questions feel free to contact me. My cell phone number is listed on there as well,” he says, pointing to the second number listed under his name, “Now a few rules before you leave. You’ll need to wait at least 48 hours before having sex. I’m serious. A full 48 hours.” Cas hands him a package with a pair of white gloves in it, “These are exfoliating gloves you’ll want to scrub yourself with these at least two to three times a week to help prevent any ingrown hairs as your hair starts to grow back.” 

Dean nods and adds them to the pile of clothes he’s going to first-time shame walk out of here with. “The earliest you can schedule an appointment to come back is four weeks, but most people wait eight. And I don’t know when your date is but I’m serious no sex for 48 hours okay?”

“It’s not until Saturday so I’m on the clear, um, thank you for,” Dean gestures vaguely at his downstairs, not really sure if he is referring to the wax or the heaven-sent gym shorts himself. 

“Your welcome, let’s get you settled up and on your way.” 

*~*~*~*~*

Arriving home, Dean face-plants into his memory foam. Who knew getting a wax would be so mentally exhausting? He feels like he went through twenty rounds of rapid-fire trivia and his brain is on fire screaming help me!

As much as he wants to sleep, he knows he needs to shower. He’s experienced first-hand falling asleep covered in lube before after a very exciting few rounds with his toys; trust him when he says waking up in day-old crusted lube is not for the faint of heart. 

Already missing his bed as he tramples in the bathroom, Dean makes a mental note to wash the oiled gym shorts separately from the rest of his laundry. Heeding Cas’s extra advice to shower with warm water and not hot, Dean sets the water temp to a nice medium before stepping in. He shampoos his hair first scrubbing the day away while enjoying the relaxation that comes from heated water beating on his back. 

After rinsing his hair clean, he blindly reaches out to grab the fresh washcloth waiting on the towel rack next to the shower. Pouring a good amount of soap on the cloth (yes, Dean likes the fancy soap from Bath and Body Works, and no he won’t take criticism about smelling like warm vanilla sugar), Dean sets to gently scrubbing himself down. He takes his time lathering every inch of his skin before rinsing. The second scrub through, Dean takes extra care setting aside the washcloth to trail curious fingers over his hairless parts. He revels at the sensation of smoothness, fingers just gliding as if they were ice skates and his perky ass the skating rink; he skates seamless circles and figure eights experimenting with speed and rhythm testing to see if anything will catch. When his fingers continue to glide effortlessly, Dean feels his heart flutter. This smoothness he loves; it was worth the awkwardness and pain. Dean only hopes his date enjoys his bravery just as much. 

*~*~*~*~*

Saturday comes in a blink of an eye. The date goes well, Dean only spills one dab of ketchup on his shirt and Aaron is a delight. The conversation flows well both sides offering up stories from their past, Dean drags on about his Baby (the ’67 sleek black Chevy Impala he built from the ground up) and Aaron talks about his work as a day trader. Brief pauses come from food being delivered and food being eaten but by the end, Aaron paid despite Dean insisting he pay. 

The night ended with a sweet peck of the lips and a promise to text. Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed and if he basks himself in the feeling of his smooth skin and nice sized toy in his ass to chase away his disappointment, well it’s no one’s business but his own.

It’s one thing to have a finger or a toy and a whole different thing to have a full-sized dick. So, when Aaron agrees to come over to Dean’s to Netflix and chill, Dean begins to panic. He knows what he wants and figures doing all the legwork beforehand will ease the awkwardness. And that’s exactly his predicament, Dean’s really never done the legwork. Which is why Dean finds himself pacing his bathroom desperately scanning google, fucking frustrated by his dilemma. 

He pops a squat on his toilet twirling his phone in his hand. He taps the screen and opens it, none of the information he read was really helpful. Most of it was mocking, honestly. He scrolls his contacts, thumb hovering over the one contact who would probably be willing to help him. Aaron is supposed to come over in a just over an hour, fuck. Swallowing his pride, Dean hits the contact and prays the call connects. 

“Hello this is Cas,” the gravelly voice says after the second ring. Dean could sing in relief upon hearing it.

“Cas, this is Dean,” 

“Dean? Is everything okay?” And boy is that a loaded question. 

This is Cas, Dean reminds himself. Cas waxes assholes all day and answers the world’s oddest questions if Dean can ask any it’s this guy. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Okay, what’s up? Are you needing to schedule another appointment?”

“No not yet, um—look I’ll be straight with you, I didn’t know who else to ask this question and I need you to do me a favor,”

“Sure,” Cas draws out with slight suspicion in his tone. Which with the desperate and cryptic way Dean is sounding is only fair.

“I need you to walk me through on how to use a douche,” Dean rushes out before he chickens out. Silence. For a second Dean thinks the line dropped then he hears a fucking snicker. “Dude come on. Don’t laugh.” Dean almost whines.

“Sorry, sorry.” Cas says, getting his bearing, “I was just unprepared. Yes, Dean, I can help you.” 

“Thank fuck,” Dean breathes out. 

“Okay, tell me what you bought first…” Cas says. Dean explains the product he bought, and Cas walks him step by step through the douching process. After the initial snicker Cas is nothing but professional and clinical in his instructions and explanations. He even throws in some advice on a better brand and some tips on bottoming for the first time. 

Dean loses track of time talking on the phone with Cas. A knock on his front door catches him by surprise. 

“Hey, I gotta go, thank you buddy. I owe you one Cas,” 

“Feel free to call me anytime, Dean. And good luck tonight,”

Dean says thanks one more time before hitting the end button. He shoots Aaron a text saying he’ll be right there. Dean hastily finishes up in the bathroom before throwing on a pair of grey sweatpants and opening the front door. 

Netflix and chill turns out to be Netflix, beer, laughs, lightly kissing, and chill. Aaron is great and by the time Dean is wishing him good evening he realizes he likes Aaron—likes him like a really good friend. Dean teeters on the line between feeling shitty for Aaron because Dean can’t be the guy he needs and feeling relief because Dean’s discovered what he wants in a relationship with a man. 

Thankfully, Aaron is a saint and understands Dean's feelings. They agree to be friends because they both rather enjoyed each other’s company and Dean chalks another tally on the friend board because he added Cas as well.

Speaking of Cas, Dean’s been texting him on the regular. Sending him funny things Dean sees at the different job locations he travels to, while Cas shares the latest waxing horror story. Their friendship is a raging wildfire of banter, bad jokes, and for some reason bee facts. 

Call him a masochist but the pain is worth the reward. Over the next couple of months Dean finds himself getting everything waxed—his legs, his chest, his back and keeping up with his Brazilian. And yes, part of it is he gets to spend time with Cas, who never fails to make him laugh and always fails to warn about the first strip being pulled, but the majority of it is Dean’s addicted. 

The smoothness, the stinging--it’s all utterly addicting. Addicting in a way perhaps a tattoo junkie would understand yet instead of needles it’s waxing strips and instead of ink Dean’s skin is the work of art, a living masterpiece.

And maybe it’s vain to stand in front of the mirror and admire yourself, but it’s become of Dean’s daily routine; this new appreciation for his body. And with his newfound appreciation for his body, Dean’s developed an appreciation for silk and satin. The way the material glides in almost a lover’s caress over his skin; the way it moves with him. He never thought one decision would allow him to explore all these other avenues of interest. His dresser next to his floor-length mirror is covered in different types of lotions (finding one that feels nice but not oil, a trial and error process), the top dresser drawer bursting with a variety rainbow of silk and satin panties. Every time he trails his fingers over his skin in the mirror he falls a bit more in love with his own body. 

*~*~*~*~*

Falling in love with his body is easy, not falling in love with a quirky, beautiful esthetician is growing impossible. After months of texting and wax appointments, they’ve started grabbing beers together at least once a week, sometimes more, depending on their schedules. The thing is Dean’s a sucker for Cas’s company; Cas understands the parts of Dean his straight friends don’t. He’s not dissing or dogging on them, but they’ve never experienced having a crush on someone of the same sex and them breaking your heart or give you a fat lip after a badly timed compliment. But Cas. Cas just fucking gets it, so Dean’s not afraid not to ask questions or open himself up when he’s with him. The dude is also shameless, not blinking an eye at anything Dean throws his way which is his favorite and least favorite part about the man. Mostly because Dean tends to make an ass out himself when given the chance.

And the chance is usually given. They’re both two beers and a shot of whiskey deep sitting in a back-booth corner at the Roadhouse. Seeing Cas slightly looser than normal, has Dean feeling pretty loose too, lips included. “So,” Dean tips his beer in his buddy’s direction, “How did you know man?” Cas hums, sipping his beer waiting for Dean to fully ask his question. “Like when did you know you were gay?” Dean rephrases. 

Cas sets his beer aside, a sign his answer is about to be a serious doozy. “Well, you’ve met Meg. My co-owner and did I mention she’s my childhood best friend?”

“Only like every other horrible story you tell,” Dean replies with a teasing smirk. 

“If it weren’t for her, I swear I’d be the angel she says I am.” Cas chuckles but there’s a resounding ring of truth to his words. 

“Is that why she calls you Clarence?”

“One story at a time Dean. Anyways, like any crazy teenagers, we were curious.”

“About sex?”

“No about when we would ever need to use algebra in real life.” Cas rolls eyes, “Yes about sex, Dean.”

Dean takes another sip of his beer mimicking Cas. 

As soon as Cas sets his beer aside, he’s eyeing Dean with his full attention, “Anyways, one afternoon during the summer between our junior and senior year, Meg suggests we fool around.”

“I had a feeling I was different before then, but this was Meg. I trusted her and when venturing into unknown waters it’s better to explore with someone you trust. And I was curious.”

“Go on.” Dean baits.

Cas laughs with easiness, “After a bit of touching she suggested, I lick down there.” 

Dean arches an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer while Cas says, “It felt like touching my tongue to a 9-volt battery, and I was like nope, no. This is not for me.” 

Beer rockets out of Dean's nose; he is laughing so hard. It hasn’t happened since he was a kid, but all he could picture was Cas’s hair standing straight up from licking a damn battery. Dean should be embarrassed but he’s still laughing because this is the most ridiculous thing to happen to him. Cas is a trooper in Dean’s eyes; the man doesn’t even make fun of him, Dean assumes it’s because Cas has seen worse in his line of work. A teasing smile tugs at Cas’s lips while he chuckles underneath his breath and helps Dean wipe up the table. Once the table is wiped dry, Cas is bumping shoulders with him, the cheesiest smile on his face. Dean bumps back saying something about warn a guy next time. Seeing Cas’s eyes crinkle adorably when he agrees, Dean feels like cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart. He might be a little in love with Cas. Maybe, more than a little. 

*~*~*~*~*

Even after identifying himself as a bisexual, Dean’s never taken the chance to pursue a man. Aaron asked him and they ended up being really good friends; actually, Dean still grabs a beer with the guy every now and then. 

Now he wants to throw caution to the wind, chase the one man he can’t get out of his head—Cas. 

They’ve been teetering this line of friendship and something more for a few weeks now. Texts have grown to full-blown nightly phone calls, beers have turned into educational pop culture movie nights—Because holy shit Cas you’ve never seen Star Trek!—and Dean catches Cas staring at his lips as much as Cas catches Dean doing the same. 

He gets it, Cas doesn’t want to cross the line of service provider and client. But Dean feels they passed that line a long time ago with their unlikely friendship. So, he’ll have to be the brave one and make the first move; what could go wrong? 

Everything apparently—every time he tries asking Cas out for dinner or attempts arranging some romantic evening (dinner and a movie, the aquarium, a picnic, a fucking drive in his Baby because he’s just desperate) the universe is dead set on working against him like it has some sort of fucking grudge. 

After two weeks of trying the proper, romantic way without success, Dean says fuck it; he’s doing this seduction the Winchester way. 

The plan he’s laid is full proof. Well as full proof as possible, as long as Cas is in fact interested in him and this doesn’t go sideways. Too late to back out now though, Cas agreed to meet him for an after-hours appointment and Dean’s already put Baby in park outside. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Dean slides out of the car slightly shivering at the cool night air biting at his exposed thighs and ass cheeks hanging out of his short shorts. Cas lets him before locking the door behind him. Dean’s been here long enough to know his way to Cas’ room with his eyes closed, though it is a touch too quiet with everyone else long gone so he doesn’t bother waiting for Cas to show him the way. 

Dean’s confidence wavers as Cas enters the room wearing his usual scrubs and moves to lean against his rolling table. Right, Cas still thinks this is a causal appointment, Dean reminds himself. Just gotta turn up the heat. Taking a page out of the Elle Woods’ playbook, Dean bends slowly taking his sweet time to untie and toe off his shoes and socks before snapping back up. 

Peeking over his shoulder, Dean catches Cas’s eye shift from his ass to the wall really quick. Dean smiles at the fact he just caught Cas’ staring. So far so good on the plan front. 

Dean’s halfway through pulling his shirt off when Cas speaks up, “Dean, by my schedule you’re not due for any kind of wax for a couple weeks.”

Shit. Rather than admit defeat Dean feigns innocence, “Really? Well I’m here you might as well look me over, right?” He puts his shirt in the chair next him where he usually piles his clothes during his appointments.

Cas hums, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow at Dean. Dean shrugs and moves to pop the button on his shorts. This is the moment he is banking on. Swaying his hips, he tries his hardest to sexy shimmy out of the damn tight shorts. 

Dean swears he hears Cas’s breath hitch as he steps out of the shorts and folds them, placing them on top of his t-shirt. Waiting for Cas’s eye consumption underneath his shorts, Dean’s wearing a floral lace pair of panties in a shade matching the color of Cas’s eyes. Playing coy, Dean runs his fingers along the bottom hem of the lace starting from his crack trailing up to his hip before he looks up at the man he desires through his lashes. 

_“Dean,”_ His name sounds broken and strangled around the growl coming from Cas’s gorgeous mouth. Dean shivers from the sound, expecting goosebumps tickling his legs. 

Batting his _come eat me_ eyes, “You like?” he asks, skimming the waistband of his panties. 

Covering the distance between in three long strides, Cas is right there hovering in Dean’s personal space. He’s not touching just drinking in all of Dean with his predator's eyes, circling him like a tiger eyeing up his delicious mealtime snack before stopping and standing directly in front of Dean. Cas pins him with a dominating stare; Dean follows his eyes as they look down at his lace and look back up. “Are these for me?” Cas’ asks, his voice falling an octave deeper than Dean’s ever heard it. 

“Yes,” Dean breathes out, leaning into Cas’ space bewitched by the man before him. They’re all but brushing against each, leaning so close Dean can almost taste the air Cas is breathing. 

“Is this what you want Dean?” Cas says, lips just shy of eclipsing Dean’s. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Dean flicks his eyes up to Cas’ to show he’s serious. He swallows and then licks his lips watching Cas trace the movement with hunger, “I want you Cas, kiss me?” Dean asks, and Cas does. He sweeps Dean up into his arms while their lips engage in a tantalizing battle of push and pull. 

Deft fingers tease the bottom hem of Dean’s panties, a playful snippet of what’s to come. Teeth nibble Dean’s bottom lip right before a tongue slides in and devours his moan. Dean’s hips rock forward on their own accord chasing any kind of friction. Breaking apart for air, Cas caresses Dean’s cheek while grasping his ass cheek and pulling him completely flush with his scrubs. 

“You’re beautiful Dean,” Cas whispers, diving back in for a kiss in order to silence any of Dean’s protests. 

The way Cas’ kisses puts all the cheesy romance novels and movies perfect kisses to shame; his lips though chapped are soft and supple when moving possessively against Dean’s as if he were to pull away for a moment he would disappear. But Dean gives as good as he gets, this might be his first bull but it’s not his first rodeo. 

Cas growls as Dean’s tongue does another sweep inside his mouth and the hands that were massaging the globes of his ass travel down to the back of his thighs. Pulling back, Cas grabs the back of his thighs, hoisting him into the air and it’s a damn fine show of impressive strength, in Dean’s opinion. 

Without his feet touching the ground, Dean’s entire body flushes from the manhandling. “So strong,” is all he can manage while wrapping himself around Cas like a front backpack. Catching his breath during the slight reprieve, Dean pouts noticing he is naked sans his panties and Cas is still fully clothed in his scrubs. 

Cas deposits Dean on the wax table like he is nothing more than a stack of heavy folders. “Too many clothes,” Dean manages, pawing at Cas’ shirt. Cas captures his mouth again kissing Dean breathless before he steps back and hastily sheds his shirt and pants, tossing them aside without a second thought. 

Hands roam as they please. Both men panting, but too desperate for another to break apart their lips for longer than a couple of short intakes of air. He should have bought an extra pair of these, Dean thinks as his cock strains against the lacey fabric leaving a growing wet spot. 

Dean’s utterly lost; drowning himself in each new sensation—Cas’s stubble scratching against his chin, Cas’s talented tongue lapping its way down the column of Dean’s throat, Cas’ teeth teasing each of Dean’s nipples with light nips. His moans are only broken by strings of "fucks" and "fuck me pleases."

A different type of sound, a deep whine, overtakes him when Cas begins mouthing at the head of his dick through his panties. Dean’s impossibly hard with desire, while watching Cast completely wet the lace with his devilish tongue. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean heaves, his toes curling in anticipation as Cas snakes his fingers into the waistband of the panties. 

“How fond of these are you?” Cas pauses his movements. 

“I have a whole dresser drawer filled.” 

“Good,” And that’s all Cas needs before he’s ripping the fabric from Dean’s body like he's a gosh dang present and his panties the wrapping paper. Tossing the destroyed material over his shoulder, Cas dives into his gift licking a long stripe from Dean’s balls to his head. A shudder racks his body as Cas sucks on the head and tongues his slit. 

“You taste so good,” Cas says with gravel to his voice like Dean’s already throat fucked him. It’s so sexy that Dean’s afraid he’ll blow his load before Cas even swallows him down. He wills his dick to behave while Cas quickly displays, he possesses no fucking gag reflex. Dean curls his fingers into that gorgeous mop of dark hair holding on for dear life. This is Cas’ show and Dean’s just along for the ride. 

He plunges his hand deep into Cas’s locks tugging a bit to garner the other man’s attention, “Cas, babe, wait for a second,” Cas stills around his dick while Dean pants out, “I don’t wanna come yet I—I prepped myself for you.” 

Cas slides off him with a wet pop. The man is a sight to behold, a sight worthy of poems and lyrics with his starburst gaze and spit-slicked lips. 

“You gonna sit there or you gonna fuck me?” Dean goads, being a bit of a brat. 

“Up.” Cas commands and Dean scrambles to comply, sliding off the table. No longer than his feet meet the ground, Cas’s hands are on him, “Turn around.” 

Just as Dean does, he’s rocked forward his hands shooting to catch himself. “Fuck,” is the only word his brain can manage as hands spread his cheeks followed by, “Holy mother—fuck—Cas—yes—yes—yes,” when Cas’ spears his tongue in his hole checking Dean’s prep work very thoroughly. A finger pushes its way in next Cas’ tongue, then two fingers pumping in and out, scissoring the ring of muscles. Dean’s a mess; Cas is taking him apart at the fucking seams. 

When three fingers slide in Dean is withering and pleading; he needs more—needs Cas. The fucker kisses the knobs on Dean’s spine while he plays Dean's body like a violin, making him sing a different chord every time his fingers slide in and out. 

“Please,” Dean begs, utterly wrecked. Dean feels empty once Cas removes his fingers, the muscles clenching around nothing. A hand clutches the back of his right thigh and maneuvers Dean’s leg to rest on the table. Dean palms at his dick while Cas sheds his boxers and lines himself up. 

Both men moan as Cas bottoms out in one long thrust. Dean knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow by the way Cas is gripping his hips, but he doesn’t care. Cas waits a moment, letting Dean get used to his girth before he shallowly snaps his hips back and forth. 

The grunts and sighs Cas makes is driving Dean absolutely wild. He pushes his hips back to meet Cas’s thrust, their bodies finding a compatible rhythm. Dean’s never had sex like this, where he feels so connected, so in sync with another. 

They race to completion together. When Cas’s thrust becomes erratic and wild, he snakes a hand around and begins pumping Dean in time with his thrusts. It only takes four or five pumps before Dean is spilling all over Cas’s hand, his own stomach, and the table. Cas follows up Dean’s orgasm with one of his own, moaning Dean’s name as he does. 

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Dean says, basking in post-orgasm bliss. 

Cas hums, “You are amazing,” kissing the back of Dean’s neck.

“Guess no waxing tonight,” Dean teases, letting Cas nuzzle his back.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Meg’s going have to start doing your waxes.”

“Why?” Dean asks, shivering as Cas pulls out; he’s only gone for a second before returning with a towel to clean the both of them up.

“Well it’s unethical to take money from my boyfriend,” Cas smirks, throwing Dean his infamous bad wink. Boyfriend. Dean likes the way that sounds. 

“Well, I think my boyfriend owes me a new pair of panties.”

“That can be arranged,” Cas says, sealing his words with a kiss. A boyfriend and new panties? Dean counts himself pretty damn lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this mess. It was a pleasure to write. Disaster Dean is my personal favorite.


End file.
